Quite Cozy
by TutorGirlml
Summary: <html><head></head>He came so close to losing her, and now that she's letting him in, he may never let go. A post 4x02 one shot; plenty of fluff, because the episode simply begging for it!</html>


_Just a short little post 4x02 one shot! I couldn't resist! The Captain Swan moments at the end of this episode were so beautiful, and I couldn't help imagining just a bit more. _

_I don't own anything of the show or the characters, and I never will. I just like to play with them._

"_Quite Cozy"_

He is hovering, and he knows it; yet, Killian Jones finds that he cannot help himself. A mere two hours ago, Emma had been encased within a wall of ice where he could not reach her, could do nothing to help her, and could only listen as her voice grew weaker through David's crackling walkie. Sensing all the lovely verve and fire fading from Emma's dwindling voice had nearly been his undoing, and had him franticly striking the ice with his hook in desperation, even knowing that he would never make a dent in time.

Emma glances up at him now, weary eyes grateful as he presses a steaming mug of hot cocoa in her hand. Her graceful fingers curl around the warm sides; she releases a pleased hum in the back of her throat – almost a purr – and his breath catches roughly. She was nearly gone. He had felt the limp exhaustion and the tremors wracking her frame as she crawled out of the hole Elsa had made in the icy wall and nearly collapsed in his arms. The feisty Swan he was used to would never have let him pick her up and carry her back to her cruiser, would have fought tooth and nail against admitting any sort of weakness, but instead she had clung tighter – as if he would have let _anyone _take her away from him in that moment. It was a terrifying confirmation of how close she had come.

His heart swells slightly when she thanks him for the cocoa refill and gives him a heavy-lidded, but open, smile over the ceramic rim of her mug. Emma's eyes may look frighteningly dark in her still-too-pale face, her hair may be mussed and only partially dry from the coating of ice it had borne, but she is here and safe with him, and Killian tries to focus on that relief instead of the ebbing fear. The fact that she had not protested when they had returned to the loft and everyone began fussing over her, that she had continued to lean into him while he held her close – even after he had deposited her safely in a chair – that she had twined her fingers together with his when he took her hand in front of her family, did him more good than he wanted to admit. He still felt his stomach residing somewhere near his knees at the mere thought of her in danger, but if the incident somehow made Emma stop hiding herself away, he would count that as one small gain within the crisis of the last several hours.

"Are you sure you're warm enough, Love?" he asks roughly, voice still ragged from calling for her through the impenetrable barrier and forcing down the despair that had been nearly flooding him. He perches uncertainly on the edge of the couch she has moved to and reaches out hopefully. Everyone else has gone to bed for the night, and he finds himself strangely unsure of where he belongs and what she wants him to do. It's strange; she has always been controlled, capable, impervious, that to see her like this – soft and fragile – almost steals the breath from his lungs. Though he has always pushed, teased, wheedled his way into her space, waiting to inevitably be shoved back, now that she sits watching him, seeming to welcome his nearness without qualm or hesitation, he hardly knows how to proceed, whether or not to touch her, afraid she might shatter.

A delayed shudder runs through Emma's limbs, her teeth clacking hard and sending tremors down her arms and legs that Killian can feel through the couch cushions, though she tries to hide them. Sheepishly, she peers up at him through her lashes and bites her lower lip, knowing she has been caught. Her toes, still like ice cubes even through the woolen socks her mother brought her earlier, curl against his leather-clad thigh, and she actually giggles like a little girl, her mirth contagious.

"Oi, Lass!" he yelps, too delighted by her playful joy to be embarrassed at the sound he makes. "How can your toes still be so cold?"

He catches her foot in his good hand just as Emma attempts to snatch both feet back, and brings it and its mate to rest on his lap, encircling them both with his hookless forearm and gently caressing the one he first grabbed in a slow, lazy massage.

"Ooh…" Emma's voice is low and causes his stomach to flip and nerves to hum as she exhales and lets her head fall against the back of the couch. "That feels wonderful! I'll…mhmm…give you…an hour to stop that."

He chuckles, continuing the soothing motions, slightly awed that now the danger and shock have passed and she is still allowing this, letting him care for her, but only too happy to pamper his Swan and have her as near as possible after what the night nearly brought. The quiet between them is comfortable for several minutes until Emma finally lifts her head and eyes him sweetly.

"Alright now, Darling?" he murmurs, grinning widely at her, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

She nods, swallowing thickly, and though she is practically beaming at him, he also cannot help feeling that she is blinking back tears. Killian hesitates, not wanting to push her or ruin this peaceful moment they have together, but it spills out, "Has no one ever done this for you before, Swan?" The words sound hoarse, and he realizes the evening's emotions are finally settling in on him as well.

Their eyes meet and hold for several beats in time, then Emma shakes her head and simply whispers, "No."

Before he can think of any other response, or do anything, she pulls her feet back under her, rises on her knees, and leans over to place a chaste, perfect kiss to his stubbled cheek. "Thank you, Killian…" she states simply, "…for everything."

It is the pirate who finds himself swallowing hard now, throat working as he struggles to force out any sort of sound at all. Grabbing both of Emma's hands before she can retreat, he pulls her forward, wrapping her in his arms and holding on tightly, with her half against his side and half in his lap. "You've nothing to thank me for. I only fought for you as you deserve. …What would I have done without you, Emma?"

The breath he draws against her ear is ragged, and Emma has no other reply but to burrow into his warmth and hold him back just as fiercely.

"Are you alright now?" he murmurs low, tracing time-roughened fingers over her skin.

Emma side-eyes him, trying to lighten the serious mood between them with a smirk and an attempt at his distinctive accent. "I'm quite cozy, Captain," she promises.

Killian shakes his head at her obvious teasing, rubbing his scruffy cheek, cat-like, against her neck and holding her closer, while making sure the blankets are still tucked in securely all around her. As long as she is here, gradually warming, the shivers growing more and more scarce, breath lightly tickling his collarbone, his world is as right as it has ever been.


End file.
